It’s finally happened. My marriage has gone to the dogs…and cats.
My husband, Marty, and I have begun communicating through our animals, the Shi Tzu, Charlie, and the cat, Copper. And I started it.
Thinking back…I don’t remember the exact moment it happened, but one day I just had Charlie ask Marty, or his “daddy,” what he wanted for dinner.
“Daddy, Mommy doesn’t know what to make for dinner…what would you like?” I asked this while holding the dog in front of Marty.
“Tell Mommy I don’t know, Charlie…how about a pizza?” Marty looked only at the dog when he answered me.
“OOOh, Daddy…that will be sooo good,” I cooed in a high pitched “Charlie voice.”
And from there…it began.
We have many conversations these days as the dog and the cat. Since she’s the female, I usually take the role of the cat and Marty usually takes on Charlie’s persona. If Big Brother is listening at our house, I don’t know if he’d be bored, entertained, or if he’d send the men in white coats to take us away!
It gets really fun if we’re having a disagreement.
“Mommy, I’m soooo c..ccc…COLD! Can we turn up the air pweazze?” Marty will say in a child-like Charlie voice.
“Charlie, it’s triple digits outside, so I don’t think we need to turn the air up…why don’t you take Daddy for a walk outside so you both can warm up.”
“Because Daddy is watching the news and he doesn’t WANT to go outside in this heat, Mommy…but he doesn’t want to freeze to death in his own home either,” Charlie will reply through Marty.
“Then tell Daddy to put on a LONG SLEEVED shirt, Charlie…and remind him it’s far easier for him to add more clothes than it is for Mommy to take off clothes.”
About that time, Copper will come strolling inside and meow for a snack, so she gets to join the conversation.
“OOOh, it feels soooo gooood in here,” Copper will say through me in a high little girl voice. “It’s so HOT outside!” She jumps on the couch next to Marty. “Feel my fur, Daddy…it’s really hot!”
And so it goes. We have many conversations through the fur babies and it’s become a kind of game we both enjoy…but I’m not sure about the animals.
After all…Charlie is about 10-years old according to his vet, and Copper is no spring chicken herself. If they understand us and can comprehend what we’re doing, I’m betting they have some interesting conversations between them.
Charlie, listening to us using a kid’s voices for him: “What the heck are they doing? I don’t sound like that at ALL! I’m 70 in dog years for crying out loud… why do they make me sound like I’m two!?! And that would be 20 in dog years!”
Copper, leisurely lying across the sofa and cleaning her face: “Count your blessings, old boy…not only do they give me a squeaky voice, they do a heavy southern accent, too.”
Charlie: “I think I’d rather have the southern accent than the shrill baby sound they give me. Maybe we should bark and meow when they start this stuff…”
Copper: “No…then they’d think we like it and probably do it even more. We should leave well enough alone.”
Once all this puppy/kitty chatter wears thin, I think I’m going to suggest to Marty that we begin taking French and Italian lessons. After all… every marriage needs a little something new every now and then. I’m thinking Charlie can be the French one and Copper can be the Italian “gatta.”
I can’t wait to tell Marty about my new plan… I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled.
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